


Two Month Rule

by Amemini



Category: Grand Theft Auto V, Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Bad Flirting, Consent Issues, Explicit Consent, Flirting, Fluff, Guns, Minor Sexual Content, Multi, also minor mentions of alcohol, and make sure to treat him with respect, based on lore set forth in the 'Game Night' series written by Wrespawn, but can you blame them?, jeremy 'is that a gun in your pants or are you just happy to see me' dooley, listen everyone just wants a piece of jeremy, the Fakes are aware of the power imbalance with Jeremy, the consent issues are only due to the power imbalance, thirsty crew being thirsty, very minor knife violence and gun usage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:00:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23530462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amemini/pseuds/Amemini
Summary: Before Jeremy Dooley became a Fake, Geoff set down a hard boundary: no fucking the newbie (and previous fanboy) for at least two months. There's a power imbalance, after all, and Jeremy needs to settle in. Still, it's not wrong if they just look... right?The crew very unsubtly flirts with an oblivious Jeremy. Shenanigans ensue.(Based on lore set forth byWrespawn'sGame Nightseries.)
Relationships: Jeremy Dooley/Gavin Free/Ryan Haywood/Michael Jones/Jack Pattillo/Geoff Ramsey, Jeremy Dooley/Ryan Haywood
Comments: 10
Kudos: 131





	Two Month Rule

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Game Night](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17512298) by [Threatie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Threatie/pseuds/Threatie), [Wrespawn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wrespawn/pseuds/Wrespawn). 



> While the tag says "RPF," the characters in this fic are just that: characters. The personalities are based on the GTA V lore that fandom has developed and the characters that Wren (Wrespawn) and their writing partner, Threatie (tumblr: alistair-made-me-undo-it) have set forth.
> 
> Warnings: very minor sexual content, some power imbalance and consent issues, a very anxious Jeremy, use of firearms, alcohol, and a general warning for minor violence; also, at one point there is discussion of drinking in a hot tub. This is VERY DANGEROUS, please don't do that! The Fakes in this 'verse die and come back; you, good reader, will not.

His first night in HQ feels weirdly lonely.

Jeremy curls onto his side, flops on his belly, then dramatically drapes himself half off the plush king-sized bed with a groan. Realistically, he knows that there are at least five other people in this building, and on this floor, no less. But the walls are so insulated that barely a sound passes through; if Gavin and Michael are still roughhousing in the main room over the Xbox, Jeremy wouldn’t be able to hear it, and he’s only a few rooms away. Groaning again just to fill the room with sound, he lies ramrod straight on his back, arms behind his head.

Despite the full house, this feels a little too like _before_. All that’s missing is the droning wail of sirens and the pop of gunshots every few hours. Sure, he and Matt would shoot the shit over a game of Halo, but the emptiness of his apartment would always creep back in.

Frankly, he still can’t believe he’s _here_. He’s run a few jobs for the Fakes, mostly pick-ups, drop-offs, and car repairs, but even now he still feels a bit starstruck when they’re even moderately friendly. Hell, today Jack hugged him after he put some mods in her new car and he nearly hyperventilated.

Jeremy jerks upright as the door slowly creaks open. Gavin’s face is cast half in shadow, but Jeremy can still see the sheepish grin on his face.

“Sorry, lad, just checking in. Thought you’d be asleep already.” Gavin’s voice is a half whisper, but it instantly soothes the anxiety curdling in Jeremy’s stomach.

“Nah, you’re good.” Jeremy hesitates before adding, “Too fuckin’ quiet. I might open a window.”

“Aww, Lil J, are you lonely?” Gavin sidles into the room with a wide smile and Jeremy’s heart gives a traitorous thump. _Not now,_ he hisses silently to himself, _don’t fuck this up just because you like him._ Gavin sits on the end of the bed and squeezes Jeremy’s ankle and Jeremy dies a little inside at the kindness in the gesture. “S’okay. Felt the same way, when we first got here. There were a _lot_ of group cuddles. Could give you one now if you need it.”

Jeremy nearly swallows his tongue.

“I… what?”

“A nice little cuddle, that’s what you need!” Gavin happily drapes himself beside Jeremy on the bed, arms extended. Jeremy’s throat goes dry. Long, lean, tan… Gavin’s entire body posture is welcoming him in right now. “Come here and let Gavvy soothe your worries!”  
  
“ _Gavvy_ is supposed to be heading to bed,” Michael says from the doorway before Jeremy can reply. There’s a small smile on his face, though, so Jeremy tries not to tense up. He’s aware of the dynamic in the Fakes now, but he also knows that Gavin and Michael are dating. If he ever became the cause of strife in their relationship… god, he’d never forgive himself.

“I’m fine. Really.” Jeremy licks his lips, sitting up on his elbows. Michael’s eyes seem to dart to his chest quickly before going back to his face. _Must be seeing things, I’m so tired,_ Jeremy thinks. No way _Mogar_ checked _him_ out. “I’ll put some, uh, ocean sounds on on my phone, or whatever.”

“You heard the man.” Michael says, yanking Gavin up the bed, hissing out the words _a month, Gavin, a month_ as Gavin crashes into his chest with the force of his pull. Gavin only laughs, patting Michael’s arm and whispering back something too soft for Jeremy to hear. “C’mon, let Lil J get some shut eye. Good night, Jeremy.”

“You know where my bedroom is if you need that cuddle, Jeremy!” Gavin says, bright as ever as Michael drags him out. Jeremy doesn’t even get a chance to say goodnight before the door clicks shut.

Well. Mostly shuts.  
  
Jeremy is getting up to close it for good when he hears Michael and Gavin’s heated whispers drifting down the hall. Slowly, feet padding soundlessly in the plush carpet, Jeremy leans close to the partially-open door and listens, even though he knows he shouldn’t.

“Gavin, seriously? I know you, you little shit. Geoff said _two months_.”

“I wasn’t gonna take it too far!” Gavin grumbles, arms crossed petulantly across his chest. “Besides, he looked a right treat, didn’t he? I mean, who sleeps in shorts _that_ short? Wouldn’t his legs chafe? … _Do_ you think his legs chafe?” If Jeremy weren’t so confused by the conversation, he might laugh.

“I _think_ ,” Michael growls, “that we have direct orders and you’re lucky I was there to stop you. Now go to your room and get on the bed. I think you need some _punishment_.” There’s an audible swallow and then a weak, _yes sir_ before they disappear down the hallway to their bedroom. Jeremy looks down at his dick and glares. _Traitor,_ he thinks, moodily, before flopping on the bed for some more sleepless shuffling of the sheets.

* * *

The rooftop pool is, without a doubt, the best part of HQ.

Jeremy sinks into the warm water with a happy sigh, beer in hand. The rest of the crew is battling it out in a Monopoly game in the heist room (“it won’t be that bad!” Geoff had protested. _Two hours ago._ ) Through sheer luck, Jeremy had gone bankrupt an hour in and was able to leave the table, while Ryan was muttering threats of dismemberment that no one seemed particularly worried about. While everyone else was occupied, Jeremy decided to take full advantage of the beautiful day. He knows they’ll be done eventually; but until then, he’ll soak in some sun.

“Hey, buddy.” Jeremy’s eyes shoot open as Geoff walks up to him, his traditional black suit folded neatly in his arms and swim trunks slung low on his hips. “Thought I might find you up here.” It takes Jeremy a minute to respond, eyes drawn to the tattoos crawling over Geoff’s (bare, exposed, _naked_ ) torso. The art curls delicately across the defined muscles of his body, blocked only by the swim shorts Geoff is wearing, and Jeremy has to fight a blush.

“Y-yeah? I mean, it’s a great view.” Jeremy bites his tongue. _Fuck, stop flirting with your boss, idiot._ “You can see all the way to the mountains from up here.” _Better._

“It’s why I chose this place.” Geoff sits on the edge of the pool, close enough that Jeremy could reach out and touch those swirls of ink if he was allowed. “I mean, besides the strategic location and the space. If you’re gonna have assloads of money, you should shell out for the _best_ view.” Jeremy laughs a little.

“Whole assloads of money, huh?” Jeremy grins. “Gotta stick it somewhere, I guess.”

“Nothing more phallic than a fuckoff huge building.” Geoff agrees easily, leaning back on his palms. Jeremy takes a sip of his beer, trying to not ogle Geoff’s body too obviously. “So. Any reason you’re wearing shorts and not swim trunks?”

“Oh. Is that not allowed?” Jeremy fights the anxiety back; they won’t get rid of him for wearing clothes in the pool. Still, he’s already halfway out of the water before a soothing hand settles on his shoulder, squeezing gently with a soft laugh.

“Fuck, as long as you don’t make too much of a mess, everything’s allowed.” There’s a strange smile on Geoff’s face that Jeremy doesn’t understand, but it’s gone as quickly as it came. “Did you not bring any with you?”

“Yeah,” Jeremy admits, “that, and I haven’t been to a pool in… fuck, forever. High school, maybe. I don’t even know if I own any, anymore. Hard to resist _this_ , though.” Jeremy sweeps a hand to indicate the luxury around them, blushing a little when he realizes he included Geoff in that general overarching motion. Geoff laughs.

“It’s like a goddamn honeytrap. That’s how I got Jack to marry me. Whiskey, the hot tub, total destruction of a rival gang…”

“We’re not married, honey. Someone burned the marriage certificate again.” Jack walks onto the deck, bare feet tapping on the damp stone. Jeremy’s eyes are drawn to her chest - fuck, he can’t believe a Hawaiian one-piece could be so _hot_ while being so _loud_ \- but he quickly looks away. God, he hopes she didn’t notice. “You look relaxed, Jeremy. Are you having a good time?”

“Better with company.” He says, and means it. He loves being here, loves being a part of the crew, but he still feels like he’s intruding every time he enters a room. To have _the actual Fakes_ seek him out for banter and shenanigans still feels a bit like a fever dream. Jack _aww_ s _,_ sitting on his other side and sliding her legs into the water with a happy sigh.

“I agree. Pools are for sharing.” Jack is grinning at Jeremy and he feels his stomach swoop. If it were anyone else, he’d think Jack was hitting on him. But it _is_ Jack, so he knows it’s just a friendly tease. He can’t help but imagine what it would be like to be _shared_ by Geoff and Jack, though, sandwiched between them with Jack’s soft breasts against his back and Geoff’s hard cock against his—

“Woohoo!” Gavin’s voice explodes from the open door. “We’re finally free!”

“What are you so excited about?” Ryan gripes, trailing after him and voice strangely hoarse. “You _lost_.”

“Ah, who cares? We’re _done_!” Gavin laughs and takes a running leap at the pool, angling _just so_ and sending a wave of water at Geoff, Jack, and Jeremy. And the suit that Geoff set aside. Geoff begins to scream furiously about _my suit, Gavin, this suit cost more than your golden fucking pistol!_

The rest of them are busy cackling, and Geoff’s complaints only get louder and higher as Michael follows quickly, screaming “cannonball!” and smoothly flipping into the pool. Jeremy is breathless with laughter, joyfully buoyant despite the shifting water around him. Ryan meets his eyes and gives him a small smile, eyes crinkling at the corners as he shifts his center of gravity, ready for his own plunge into the sloshing pool.

Moments like this are why he joined the crew.

* * *

The rocket launcher feels foreign to him. Weighty and awkward, resting heavily on his shoulder as he looks through the sights. Jeremy lets out a slow breath, searching for a safe target in the brushy scrublands around him. With an impatient grunt, Michael crosses his arms.

“You gonna shoot it or not?” Michael huffs. “If you changed your mind, no pressure, but I want a turn!”

“I’m getting there,” Jeremy says, the eerie calm of a gun in his hands blocking out the annoyance in Michael’s tone. “Just looking for a good spot.”

“It’s the fucking desert, man; anything is gonna be a good spot.” Michael rolls his eyes, but there’s a fondness in the gesture that lets Jeremy know that there’s no _real_ frustration between them. It makes Jeremy smile.

“Duly noted.”

“ _Dooley_ noted!” Michael says with a bright laugh. Jeremy doesn’t respond, setting his stance more firmly in the packed earth and letting out a slow breath as he pulls the trigger.

 _WHOOMF_. A thick cloud of dust erupts from the ground as the rocket makes contact. There’s almost no recoil, but Jeremy stumbles all the same as hot gas explodes from the back of the launcher. Shit. He was prepared to fall _back_ , not _forward_. Still, he manages to stay standing, all while Michael whoops triumphantly beside him.

“Damn,” he whistles, “that was a sweet shot, Lil J!”

“Th-thanks,” Jeremy says, panting as sweaty hands slowly lower the launcher to the ground. Adrenaline pumps through his veins; the Fakes haven’t let him near anything more dangerous than a sniper rifle, and that was in their gun range back at HQ. The thrill of having the deadly metal in his hands feels like _foreplay_. A wild smile takes over his face. Damn, he wants to do that again, and soon. “How many shells did you bring?”

“I was hoping you’d ask.” Michael gives him a friendly clap on the shoulder, squeezing. “But you gotta wait for her to cool down. A few minutes and you’ll be ready to shoot again.”

“Okay.” Jeremy stretches a little. “I thought that was gonna put me flat on my back.”

“They’re military issue,” Michael says proudly, “so there’s almost no recoil. Just gotta keep an eye on the backblast. You don’t wanna burn an ass that fine.” Jeremy feels his face go hot as Michael winks at him. He knows that’s how the Fakes tease, but fuck, he’s gonna get caught with a boner one day and they’ll have no one to blame but themselves.

…Well, okay, he’ll blame himself first. _Then_ his crewmates.

“Fuck you,” Jeremy grumbles, smiling and picking up the rocket launcher again. “C’mon, the dust is settled. Let me shoot another one.” Michael pats his shoulder again and heads to the car, whistling to himself. Jeremy's feels the blush go up to his hairline.

He’s _sure_ Michael didn’t mean to brush a hand against his ass as he left. …Right?

* * *

After the rocket launcher incident, Jeremy starts noticing… things. For the next week, he keeps a close eye out, and begins to notice a pattern. When he lifts weights in the gym, Gavin’s eyes track his arms appreciatively. Jack makes it a point to visit the garage whenever he’s working on a car. Geoff slings an arm across his shoulders and happily pours liquor from the specialty cabinet when Jeremy asks for a top-off. Michael blatantly checks him out at the shooting range, complimenting or correcting his form as needed. Ryan is more subtle, but Jeremy can feel Ryan’s gaze burning holes into him, giving him a nervous, pleasant shiver down his back each time.

It’s more than he ever could have dreamed of, and it scares him shitless.

 _I’m just a stupid fanboy,_ Jeremy thinks, sprawled on his bed and come-covered hand resting on his stomach. Despite the pleasant tingles still sparking across his nerves from a spectacular orgasm (dream Ryan has _wonderful_ hands), Jeremy feels that same old doubt creeping back in. It settles like a lead weight in his belly, and he throws his clean arm over his eyes, groaning to himself. _I’m imagining things, that’s all,_ he tells himself, glum, _or they’re humoring me. Or hazing me. …Nah, they wouldn’t do that._

He doesn’t know which of the options would be the worst.

“Jeremy?” There’s a soft knock at his door and Jeremy sits bolt upright, clutching his blankets and frantically pulling them into his lap. Ryan’s voice is sleepy, worn at the edges, a little rough. It makes Jeremy’s heart pound for a different reason.

“Ryan? Everything okay, buddy?” Jeremy makes a snap decision and licks his hand clean as fast as he can, wiping the excess on his sheets and promising himself to do laundry in the morning.

“Uh. Is it okay if I come in?” Ryan clears his throat. “No big deal if not.”

“Shut up, of course you can.” Jeremy says, already wriggling his boxers back up from his thighs. “You never gotta ask.” The door creaks open and Ryan steps inside slowly, shutting the door behind him. Jeremy feels… something about a closed door blocking them from the crew, before he forcefully pushes the feeling down. Ryan’s eyes are sleep-soft and a little red, but he doesn’t look like he’s been crying. Still, he flops bonelessly besides Jeremy with a low groan, face first into Jeremy’s bed. Jeremy blushes and hopes to _fuck_ it doesn’t smell like he just jerked off.

“Sorry,” Ryan mumbles. “Everyone was being couple-y and I needed a break.”

“You’re fine. Really. Us loners gotta stick together, right?” Jeremy smiles as Ryan’s head pops up, hair in disarray.

“You could get anyone in Los Santos, don’t talk like that,” Ryan says, curling up on his side with a tired smile of his own. Jeremy never, _ever_ could have imagined this: vulnerable, pliable, sleepy. The Vagabond is in his bed and clutching the nearest pillow to his chest. It’s fucking adorable, but it makes Jeremy’s heart ache.

“Y-yeah? Well, what about you? You’re a fuckin’ catch. There’s gotta be lots of fanboys and girls who wanna get it on with the Vagabond.” Jeremy bites his tongue before he adds, _like me_.

“Fans… they’re okay for a one night stand, you know? But that’s not a relationship. Dating outside of the crew is… It’s risky.” The soft lines of his crow’s feet tighten for a moment, a memory that Jeremy can’t share in. “If they’re a civilian, you have to worry about them getting mixed up in this and dying. If they’re used to gang life, you worry about a knife in the back. Add in a suspicious, protective crew with handpicked members and a very selective recruiting process…”

“I get it,” Jeremy says quietly, hand on Ryan’s shoulder. “You don’t gotta explain it to me. I’ve already thought about all that. I get it.” Ryan puts a hand over Jeremy’s and smiles.

“Yeah. That’s why I’m in here. I knew you would.” Ryan squeezes his hand. There’s a strange _squish_ over Jeremy’s knuckles and they both freeze at the sound. Buzzing anxiety crawls up Jeremy’s spine like the crack of lightning as they both look at the spot where they’re touching. A mixed glob of lube and come is squished between Ryan’s fingers.

Jeremy wonders, quietly, if a man can die from embarrassment.

“Uh… did I interrupt something…?” Ryan asks, face blank and hand suspiciously still. “I can leave.” Jeremy swallows hard, shivering. Ryan’s eyes darken and his fingers tighten around Jeremy’s. The air around them has changed, a thrill of anticipation and danger in the air between them. He can’t tell if Ryan is about to stab him in the throat or…

“Uh, well… y-you didn’t… _interrupt_ , really…” Jeremy’s voice drops into nothing as Ryan pulls that hand closer, licking over the knuckles and making direct eye contact with him. It's a generic lube, and come doesn’t always taste great, but… Ryan looks _really_ into it. The moment stretches out, elastic and silent, Ryan’s tongue flicking across the skin and cleaning him up. Without thinking about it, Jeremy moans, a muted little sound that he quickly cuts off. Ryan lets go like they’ve both been burned.

“Shit.” Ryan wipes his mouth with a shaking hand, eyes wide and face white. “Shit, Jer, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” Jeremy’s stomach drops to somewhere near Antarctica, and he nods quickly.

“No, it’s cool. J-just one of those things between friends that we… never have to talk about again.” Jeremy’s hand drops to the bedspread limply as he looks away. A mix of rejection and shame is boiling in his gut; how is he supposed to ever look Ryan in the eyes again? Hell, can you heist with someone who licked come off your hand and then shot you down?

“Hey, look at me.” Ryan tilts his face up, palm warm against clammy skin. There’s a faint smile on his face, embarrassed but hopeful. “I wanted to. Don’t think that I didn’t. But I should’ve asked first.” Ryan sighs. “Geoff was right to put in a two month rule. Neither of us are really ready for this.” Jeremy blinks, mind grinding to a halt.

“Wait, what?”

“Oh. I thought you’d noticed I was, uh…” Ryan ducks his head, smile growing. “I guess throwing a knife at you and missing on purpose isn’t normal flirting behavior.”

“I _knew_ you threw that at me!” Jeremy says, momentary humiliation forgotten. “And you denied it, you shit!”

“You make a real easy target. All those muscles…” Ryan’s eyes are dark again, like before, and Jeremy’s protests die in his throat. “Besides, I’d never actually hit you… probably.”

“Probably.” Jeremy huffs. “You’re a fuckin’ romantic, aren’t you?”

“Hey, don’t kinkshame me.”

“Kinkshaming can be hot if done right.” Jeremy snaps his mouth shut and squirms under the wide-eyed intensity of Ryan’s gaze.

“Fucking _Geoff_ , being _right_ ,” Ryan grunts, surprisingly venomous. Jeremy frowns and pokes him in the shoulder.

“I still don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” Jeremy says. His brain is all over the place, jumping from one thing to the next. Did Geoff call dibs? Did Geoff say Jeremy was off-limits, for some reason? Ryan sighs and leans into Jeremy, voice low.

“He said we had to wait two months before fucking you.” Ryan speaks soft and slow, a ferocity in his eyes as they drag down the length of Jeremy’s body. Tingles spread from every point that Ryan’s eyes linger on and Jeremy has to stop himself from climbing into Ryan’s lap. “And I know he’s right. It’s just hard to remember when you look so…” Ryan trails off, and a smile softens his expression, sheepish and sweet. “I really thought you’d noticed.”

“I… I guess I sort of did, but no one said, ‘hey Jeremy, you’re hot, wanna bang?’ so…”

“Jeremy,” Ryan interrupts, stern yet playful. “You’re hot. In a month, do you wanna bang?”

“Is kissing off-limits?” Jeremy asks breathlessly. “Geoff only said no fucking, right?”

“Lemme take you on a date first,” Ryan laughs, leaning into him again. Jeremy can’t even be mad; the look on Ryan’s face is hungry, excited. The same look before he goes out on a thrill-filled heist, directed full-force at Jeremy. “Don’t want you thinking I’m easy for all the short pretty boys I come across.”

“I think you’re a _tease_ ,” Jeremy says, pretending to be annoyed even as a wide grin overtakes his face. Ryan scoffs, nudging their shoulders together.

“At least you know what to expect.” Ryan sits up. “So. About that date…”

“You wanna get a late dinner and not kiss on the beach?” Jeremy interrupts, the smile on his face starting to hurt in the best way. “My treat.”

“Such a gentleman,” Ryan purrs, sliding off the bed. “Clean yourself up and put on a shirt. I’ll meet you in the garage.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was the first thing I've written in two years, so I'm very glad that I could write something based off of Wren's incredible _Game Night_ series!
> 
> Also big side note, Geoff _absolutely did not_ okay that thing with the rocket launcher. Michael got a reaming and a half for that when he found out, along the lines of "you can die and come back. He can't! Be more careful with him!" and Michael pouting.
> 
> Toss a kudo to your writer, o valley of readers? :)


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